One Hundred and Sixty-five

Along my path I...

Learn the waza,
practice the waza,
train the waza,
live the waza,
breathe the waza,
be the waza;

forget the waza,

do Aikido.

One Hundred and Sixty-four

My hands on uke
do not become points of control
they define points of departure.

And from what do I depart?

Ego, rigid space, isolation, separation, immobility, conflict...

My touch is light
a hint of suggestion,
encouragement
as uke follows my lead
I move into his wake
completing the cycle of leading/following,
though they occur simultaneously.

I don't lead then follow
then lead then follow again
for uke moves with me,
our leading/following
entwined in braided motion.

It's about connection
not control.
Control is the antithesis of
Aikido, which is
the embodiment of freedom;
formless interaction,
the control of which
immediately severs
the bond.

Each touch
a point of departure,
a point of beginning,
of communion, communication, unification.

Without the responsibility of control
I am able to sport freely,
lose myself in the moment
and truly experience correct feeling.

One Hundred and Sixty-three

A character in "The Sword of the Lady" by S. M. Stirling remarks that relaxing the body helps to relax the mind. It got me to thinking about my Aikido training. I was always told to calm my mind in order to relax my body. I never heard the converse, and I assumed that in order to relax my body I first had to calm my mind. Considering Stirling's quote in light of my view regarding posture I now see that both points of view, far from being contradictory, are actually complimentary.

Over the years I have come to realize that correct posture is composed of both external and internal factors; each of which complements and reinforces the other. External posture is my physical appearance, the face I put on for the world to see. Internal posture is reserved only for me to observe. It's my self image, how I view myself in my mind's eye. Correct posture as it relates to Aikido requires both internal and external postures be viewed and presented, respectively, in a positive manner; another tool for the effective integration of body and mind and the attainment of correct feeling. When practiced, positive internal and external postures reinforce each other in a feedback loop.

Thus it is with the relaxation of my body and mind. As I practice Aikido I learn to relax my body which, in turn, calms my mind. As I grow a quiet mind my body further relaxes... Once the loop has been established, ongoing practice reinforces the results. Body and mind, relaxed and calm, become increasingly integrated and, hence, my whole being moves closer to now as I continue to progress.

One Hundred and Sixty-two

In Post 52 I described an exercise related to having both weight underside and no weight on my feet. The other night Mary had us practice another similar exercise that employed the well known two people lifting one person Ki exercise.

Standing in natural stance I have one person grab each of my arms with two hands and proceed to lift. My hands, wrists slightly curled, hang at my sides with elbows only very slightly bent. As long as I remain relaxed and centered I can remain on the ground despite my partners' best efforts to lift me. The minute I allow tension to seep into my elbows or shoulders my partners will be able to lift me. If I lose unbendable arm one or both of my shoulders will rise, destroying my structure and unbalancing me.

Once I am satisfied the my partners cannot lift me I begin to move about the mat as they continue lifting. I am able to move freely, as though sliding over an iced pond. From my partners' perspectives I am heavy, from my own I feel light as a feather, my feet firmly but barely touching the floor as I move about.

This is the feeling of no weight on your feet. Continued practice of this exercise is a terrific aid in developing the feeling of weight underside while moving.

One Hundred and Sixty-one

I insist that I am right;
and so have been defeated from the outset.
I have been immobilized,
encased in the straight jacket of my knowledge
I cease to grow and change.

My study of Aikido has taught me
knowledge is fluid;
evolving with time and circumstance.

Knowledge is approximate;
requiring recall
removes me from the moment.

O Sensei wrote
"Learn and forget."

One Hundred and Sixty

There is no adequate substitute for feeling Aikido. Metaphorical descriptions be they conferred by word, picture or video; cast in the language of science, philosophy or arcane concepts out of the depths of time are rendered unsatisfactory when what is happening is actually felt by my partner and me.

I learn Aikido via the interaction of my partner and myself as we move about the mat practicing technique, Ki exercises, randori or whatever. As training time progresses I become familiar with how I feel when things go smoothly and naturally. I learn to feel when I have connected with my partner and we move in concert rather than conflict. Feeling provides me with all the feedback I need to determine the effectiveness of my performance. When I feel bumping, pulling, pushing, tugging, towing, undue exertion... I immediately know that something is wrong, we're no longer connected, and I then seek to reestablish my link with my partner. Aikido practice is self-correcting. If I just pay attention to how I feel then, with time, I will be able to refine my practice in such a way as to continually approach correct feeling which is my most natural and strongest possible state.

Along the way, I endeavor to dispense with metaphor as a substitute for feeling. Metaphor is a seductive but limiting tool for trying to encapsulate a dynamic process in static imagery. Metaphor is an order of magnitude removed from experience. If I rely on metaphor to bolster my understanding and perpetuate my growth in Aikido I will surely stray from the path which is laid out before me but must be felt to be really experienced and understood.

One Hundred and Fifty-nine

Mary and I were back team teaching over the weekend. My first classes since the operation. The doc was true to his word, I was limited in what I could do only by the pain doing it caused. And, in fact, since I decided to take things slow and ease myself back into full bore practice there was very little discomfort.

What I found most interesting; and I guess I had to be totally away from practice for 2 weeks to appreciate it, was that I found I could draw on the energy of the other people in class. Each partner I practiced with had something to offer, a healing something, and I felt myself grow appreciably stronger as class went on. By the end of Sunday class I could almost forget that only two weeks earlier I was sliced, diced, pumped full of gas and patched up in an OR at Bay State.

I've been studying Aikido for thirty-three years and it never ceases to amaze me that I manage to take something new away from each and every class. Mary and I feel truly blessed and honored to be able to teach and practice with the folks that come to our house to study with us four times a week, week in and week out.

One Hundred and Fifty-eight

Finally had my operation on March 29th. Two hours under, three hernias repaired; one pretty awful week and one not so awful week of recovery. Made it back on the mat today (April 10th).

It occurred to me today during class that for the past 4 months while I was waiting to be operated on that my focus in class has been pretty much exclusively on my centers. The hernias were clustered around my physical center in a nice equilateral triangle and seriously hampered my ability to be overly physical with my partners. Consequently, when practicing, I had to rely on really focusing on my, for lack of a better way of phrasing it, Ki center. The experience brought home to me the paramount importance of all of the principles I talk about in class (connection, congruent motion, timing, patience, letting the throw happen of its own accord, correct distance etc).

I have learned that via correct application of those principles that even though my physical center has been damaged and is still healing, thus not very reliable, that I can trust my Ki center. My injury has forced me to step up and perform at a higher level in order to continue performing at all. A most enlightening experience.

One Hundred and Fifty-seven

And so on a day much clearer
air not muddied by time and trial,
the tide in its rhythm,
when seasons come and seasons go,
children grow without fear,
tears are only those of joy,
then, perhaps,
the world will no longer
need Aikido,
for its mission
will have come to fruition.

But the days of many are not clear
air grows stale in many ports,
the tide laps not gently
upon all shores,
and seasons,
while coming and going
as always they do,
do so in ways
seeming sometimes capriciously malicious;
children do grow in fear
real fear born
of troubles they neither understand
or should have to care about,
and tears are
more often than not
tears of pain and grief.

The vision of the Master
has yet to come to pass,
though but a drop
of rain in a vast hollow,
enough drops falling will
fill the hollow and create a sea.

The promise of Aikido
may yet see the light
of a day
breaking upon a world
unfettered of strife
and conflict born of fear.

One Hundred and Fifty-six

What I am finding is that my Aikido growth is right in step with my advancing age. That is, I am more centered, stronger, softer, and calmer than I was 30, 20, 10 or even 5 years ago.

More Centered - One way that 'centeredness' manifests itself is weight underside. When I was a 4th kyu student we were visited by a student from New York who studied under Yamada sensei. Michael was a 2nd dan at the time; a rank which, I remember, seemed a lifetime away from my vantage point. I had the occasion to uke for him in a three uke freestyle. What impressed me most about him was the fact that when I attacked him he seemed to weigh 3 or 4 hundred pounds more than his actual weight and embodied all those hundreds of pounds in his solidity. I promised myself that one day I too would achieve what I felt when practicing with him. Now, these many years later, I realize that even though my real weight isn't a whole lot more than it was then, my weight as perceived by my partners is decidedly heavier than would be recorded on a scale.

Stronger - Ahh... strength, power... the ability to control, to exert one's will over another (especially a resistant other)... the seductive feeling that lesser mortals must give way in the face of my awesomely strong self... At best a destructive illusion, at worst a lie I may tell myself in order to justify some action of mine that otherwise would be better left undone. I have come to the realization that real strength comes not from what I can do to successfully throw my partner, but what I don't have to do to in order to execute the throw. The kind of strength I'm referring to is sometimes call Ki power or internal strength or the strength of connection or [insert your favorite metaphor]. It's something I have much more of now than I possessed in the past. I know now that Ki exercises aren't just demonstrations to wow onlookers and beginning students. They are an essential part of training myself to grow stronger; to grow the kind of strength that doesn't dissipate with the years.

Softer - When I began training I was at the height of my physical power and endurance. I loved to be thrown hard and to reciprocate in kind. That was real Aikido. And for a long while it remained my truth. Age and Aikido changed me though. Gradually as I grew older I began to experience the benefits of the 'softer' way. I saw that applying a soft touch at the right moment will lead to a throw in the same way that a mighty grasp without regard to the subtleties of timing and connection. I learned to establish a connection with my partner before the attack and maintain it throughout the whole movement and follow through. This approach has allowed me to continue taking ukemi into my sixties and, hopefully, long beyond. I have been able to take better care of my partners thus allowing them to continue their training as they age.

Calmer - At 29 many long years of joyful practice lay before me and I couldn't wait to get 'there' although as to exactly where 'there' was remained a mystery. I was so thirsty in those days, I wanted to know it all and know it fast. Aikido was a rainbow and even though it meant missing out on the beauty of the arch, what I wanted was the pot of gold at its end. Consequently much of my early and middle years studying were spent in a state of inner tension. As what previously lay before me now stretches out far behind I see that the journey is the real reward. This has resulted in an inner calmness that tempers my still strong ache for deeper knowledge of my Way.